


Crimson

by kuiwe



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AU where the apprentice and Muriel meet during his gladiator days, Angst, F/M, Romance, hooo boy here we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuiwe/pseuds/kuiwe
Summary: Vesuvia's best healer was tasked with taking care of a tender-hearted gladiator at the Colosseum. Not the strangest thing she's done...but definitely one she didn't expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> haha ooh boy do I love hurting myself. This is a bit of a prologue before books I-V! In an AU where Muriel and the apprentice become involved before the amnesia. I literally never write fanfics I prefer to read them, but what can I say I love shipping ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ If my writing isn't too bad I hope you enjoy!! (Also sorry it’s kinda short I only know how to write in spurts lol)

“The Court Magician recommended you highly.” One of the colosseum guards yawned. “Best healer in the city, he said.”

The roaring crowds and the vibration of the drums above ground was loud enough to pound in her chest as they walked the tunnels underneath the stone seats of the audience. Myrra wiped some of the dust off her shoulder that plumed from the ceiling. Blood red and gold banners rippled from the drafty hallway. Torch light flickered on the wall, and the high praise from her dear friend did nothing to quell her nervousness.

“Asra has always had the habit of embellishing my skills, I’m afraid.” She yelped as a rat unexpectedly skittered over her foot. The two guards behind her chuckled. 

“...But I do well enough.”

“Well enough is all we need,” He said dismissively. His greasy chin pointed to the heavily barred door at the end of the hall. “As long as he can fight. He got roughed up pretty bad today.”

She didn’t like the sound of that.

When she answered the call to the Count’s palace, a task like this was the last thing she expected; however it wasn’t quite surprising either. She ran a magic shop in the inner circle of the city, with Asra’s help. She was especially busy now that the majority of his time was spent serving in the palace. Creating potions and elixirs for other people’s ailments, as well as Arcana readings were her specialty. She had developed a growing, solid reputation for herself in Vesuvia. 

But now because of it, she was in Lucio’s peripheral. Apparently the Count’s favorite gladiator needed to be in top shape for his entertainment. She only accepted the Count’s ‘request’ mostly as a favor to Asra. She scowled. Myrra never realized what the colosseum really was until she stepped through the front gates. She knew there was fighting, but these weren’t fair fights- or volunteers. Not in the least. The fact that it was criminals who were fighting didn’t change the swell of anxiety and sadness in her chest. These people were meant to fight for their freedom, not to be led to slaughter.

He took out a ring of rusty keys and unlocked the padlocks hanging on the door, and swung it open for her to walk in. The two guards who were following behind her stepped aside to stand on either side of the frame. “The Scourge will see you now.” He chuckled, his voice echoing as he closed the door behind her.

Myrra rung her hands on her apron. The clang of chains rattled in the corner of the dark chamber. The only tendrils of light in the room stemmed from a small, barred window near the ceiling, and onto the packed dirt floor. The sand stone walls were decorated with spider webs and tally marks.

She could see the barest outline of a very large man sitting on a too-small cot. She breathed in through her nose to calm her nerves, and summoned a globule of light at her fingertips. The hulking man sitting in the corner flinched, and tried to make himself small. It wasn’t working. 

He fixed his body language when he realized it wasn’t a member of the guard. His long black hair covered half of his face, his armor to match. He was bloody and gashed from head to toe, a ring of blood stained the cot he sat on. Heavy chains linked his wrists and neck to the stone wall behind him. He kept his visible eye trained on her, carefully silent. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

She pitied him instantly. “Hello. My name is Myrra.” She said gently. “I’ve been sent to heal you, is it alright if I come over?”

“To heal me?” She nodded. His gravelly voice bounced against the walls, despite the noise outside. “So the count has assured my well being. How kind.” He spat out.

“I’m-” She backpedaled. Her voice died in her throat when he stood up all of a sudden, broad muscled shoulders hunched over to accommodate the short ceiling, the back of his head touching the stone. Now at his almost full height, he seemed to take up the whole room. Heavy chains followed him until his few steps made them taught. The bright red beetle on his shoulder glinted menacingly in the light.

“Do I frighten you?” A harsh whisper.

She realized she was pressed against the wall, only a scarce foot between them. She fixed her face and lifted her chin in defiance. She wouldn’t let this gladiator intimidate her. 

“Of course not.” With her squared shoulders, she had to crane her neck just to meet his gaze. 

His nostrils flared, expression scowling.

“You should leave, magician.” The shadows from his curtain of hair did nothing to hide the tear streaks cutting through the blood on his cheeks. The sight of it let her drop the tension in her body.

“Please, let me help you.” She said quietly, eyes pleading. 

He sighed through his nose.

“Not like I have much of a choice.” He looked away finally, yanking on his shackled wrists. 

“Then let's fix you up a bit.” She gently touched his arm, and gestured for him to sit back down. When he did, his hand had covered where hers had touched him.

She kneeled in front of him and cast her healing magic, both hands glowing a blue calming light. Starting with his legs, she worked her way up. Wounds stitched themselves back together, adding more scars to his already impressive collection. ‘How has he even survived this long? I can’t comprehend the life he must lead.’

Myrra’s heart ached for him. No person alive deserves to be chained up like a wild animal. She held no love for Lucio and his ideas of entertainment. How it managed to get this far, she’ll never know.

She started working on his arm, slowly sliding her hands from wrist to shoulder. One wound so deep, it looks like the swing of an axe or a sword had caught him. She gasped when she saw there was a broken arrow in his back. ‘Was there no end to this? Just how many people was he fighting?’

“I take it… you… won?” She asked hesitantly.

She half expected him to stay silent, until he quietly mumbled, “I always do.” His gaze stayed fixed on the damp walls. She paused her healing to look at him, hand hovering over another scar, in shock. He wouldn’t meet her eyes this time. Her brows were pinched in worry.

“Hold on, this one is going to hurt…” He gripped the edge of his cot. She gave him a short warning before she pulled out the arrow cleanly and healed it before more blood had the chance to make a mess. He grunted, teeth bared. His shoulders sagged in relief when he was finally free of the arrow.

She moved to his face, a long cut that stretched from his cheek bone to the edge of his jawline, and let her magic wash over it. His eyes flicked to hers in a split second of nervous curiosity and looked away again. ‘He’s so beautiful...’ She thought in awe. When all that was left on his cheek was a raised scar, she took the corner of her apron and gently wiped at the tear streaked blood on his face. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do much about the blood, but at least you’re in one piece again.” She gave him a small smile. His eyes fluttered at the barest of contact. She would’ve missed the way he just barely leaned into her touch if she weren’t paying attention. His dark stubble tickled her palm. 

“What’s your name?” She softened. Despite the blood on his clothes, her magic could sense his gentle, good aura. He didn’t deserve to be here.

He looked at her fully now, surprised. Her heart jumped at seeing his forest green eyes. 

“I-.....Muriel.” He swallowed and looked away again.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Muriel. My name is Myrra.” She gave him a sweet smile, feeling a little more confident. She would be nothing if not a good caregiver, and did this man need care. His face seemed a bit red, and it wasn’t from the blood.

All of a sudden there was a fist banging on the door that nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“You done in there yet, girl? We gotta get him back out there!” One of the guards yelled impatiently. The guard swung open the door, keys twirling on one finger. He detached Muriel’s chains from the wall and let them drag heavily on the floor.

Her temper flared, unbelieving. “He should be resting. You’re just going to throw him back out there!?”

“That’s his job, witch. You’ve already finished yours. Take your leave.” The guard snapped. Exasperated, he walked out the door, waiting for the gladiator to follow.

Muriel trundled over toward the hallway and paused, one large hand on the stone door frame. He looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you…… Myrra.” He said quietly. Sincerely.

She could hear the crowd’s deafening cheers when he returned to the arena.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrra sneaks Muriel out for a short night of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft! Soft! I love soft things!!  
(Muriel's history on how he became a gladiator is still a little mysterious until we get more books, and the arcana timeline is a little confusing, so im just making it up at this point lol.)

After the first healing session, she continued to go see him on a regular basis over the next few months, despite his multiple attempts to convince her to stay away. Even when he wasn’t in need of healing, she made time. Lucio didn’t even need to ask for her assistance anymore. ‘_Starting to warm up to the violence, Myrra? I knew you couldn’t stay away for long._’ The count’s egotistical grin irritated her.

If Muriel wasn’t locked up somewhere, he was by Lucio’s side as his personal fixture and guard. She couldn’t do anything about Lucio’s presence, but she could ease his time in his colosseum cell. A basket with actual food, not just the kind of gruel he was given to maintain his training. Wood blocks and a knife to pass the time. A real blanket. He tried to refuse it all, but eventually softened up to having those luxuries- with a small smile he tried to hide. She knew he thought he didn’t deserve anything, that he thought he wasn’t worth it. Fierce fighter as he was, she noticed the way he stopped fighting her soft touches. He gave her some of his own, as well.

He was an executioner, a man with blood on his hands. She was slowly trying to chip away at the way he saw himself, but she couldn’t do that as long as he was in chains. Especially when he thought he earned them. She felt incredibly grateful to be able to know the personal side of him he is otherwise too guarded to show anyone else.

Several months later, many of the colosseum guard had started to talk. The Scourge and the Witch. Muriel could hear the crude whispers in the hallway, and tried to use it as another excuse to warn her against coming to see him. She couldn’t bring herself to care, despite his worry for her safety and reputation. Most of all, she didn’t want to give up on his progress- he was breaking off a piece of his shell each time she came to see him.

The count had taken ill, as did many other residents of Vesuvia. Whatever sickness this was, it was popping up in random places all over the city. Myrra had been more and more occupied recently, trying to help her ailing neighbors and anyone else who came to her for bitter herb bundles, solvents, and potions. Asra had been busy assisting Doctor Devorak at the palace, and she assisted Julian at his clinic when time allowed. Until he came through with a cure for this epidemic, if the Scourge were to just ‘happen’ to succumb to the plague…

She would have to refine her escape plans for Muriel later.

Tonight however, she was looking forward to. The moon was high, and the sandstone colosseum was cast in an eerie blue glow in the empty cobbled streets of Vesuvia. Ruby red flags were disturbed on its walls from the summer breeze, and the two guards at the front gates were slouched against their post, one already half asleep. They both immediately straightened up when she came waltzing up to them. Bolson recognized her immediately; he was sweet in his own way, if not a bit ditzy. She cured his mother of her back pain, once.

“Evening, Miss Myrra! you’re up pretty la-”

“What do you want, _witch_?” The other however, Osryn, always had some bone to pick. Charming as ever.

“Evening, gentlemen. I’m here to see the gladiator’s quarters. He seems to be coming down with the sickness that’s been going around recently. I just got back from the clinic, and the Count has requested he be ready for this week’s tournament.”

“As if you expect me to believe that. The only thing those healing hands are touching is the Scourge’s co-caaAUGH!” He choked as soon as she blew a potent sleeping powder into his face. He waved the translucent powder away from his face in vain until he slumped against the wall once again. Satisfied, she turned to Bolson.

“Thank you for doing this, Bolson. Consider this as the payment for your mother’s treatments.” She smiled and patted his shoulder. “He shouldn’t remember anything when he wakes up.”

“Anytime, Miss Myrra.” He winked. “He had it coming to him for awhile. The others are doing the rounds, if you move quickly, you should be able to make it without being caught. Shifts change again just before sunrise.”

She hurried down the deep halls of the colosseum to the last door in the passage, basket in tow. She unlocked Muriel’s door with Bolson’s skeleton key. She poked her head in. He was nestled with the blanket she gave him, feet hanging off of a cot that was too small for him.

“.._.Muriel!_” She whispered loud enough for him to hear. He was a light sleeper. “_Wake up, I have a surprise!_”

He turned over to see the short magician on her tiptoes, leaning on the edge of the heavy wooden door.

“...Myrra?” He asked, confused. His green eyes widened when he realized the situation. “What are you doing here? _You’ll get caught._”

She rushed over and unlocked his chains with the skeleton key and stuffed it in her pocket. “_I already took care of it, but we have to hurry._” She tugged on his heavy arm until he reluctantly stood up. When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back here before the next shift change.”

She tugged a grey cloak out of her basket and pulled on his hand so he would slouch low enough for her to drape it over his shoulders. Picking up the basket, she grabbed his calloused hand and pulled him out the door.

“Myrra, _please_, I-” his voice a harsh whisper. She continued to lock the door like it was never opened in the first place.

Her eyes were pleading. He hated how affected by her he was. How close he allowed her to get. He wasn’t supposed to feel-

She gently lifted his chin. “_Let me do this. I promise you’ll like it._” She was so tender with him. Always a solid place for him to lean on, despite being so soft. He wanted to run his thumbs over those rosy cheeks. He sighed and let her pull him into her rising tide.

They left the colosseum, Bolson giving them a salute on their way out, through the streets and outside of the city towards the forest line. She hadn’t let go of his hand the whole way. He was almost ashamed to say he didn’t want her to. Almost. They went into a small clearing, the tree tops breaking just enough to the stars and the high rise of the moon overhead. Fireflies flickered over the tall grass, and the surrounding trees felt like a cradle in the dark. She was right, he did like it.

He bent down to touch the grass, already damp with dew. He ripped a few blades out and rolled them in between his fingers. When was the last time he able to do this? He couldn’t remember. No sounds of carriages or clanging swords, no strangers yelling at him. Cheering him...No screaming opponents.

Just the stars.

He didn’t realize until he looked up at her that his eyes were tearing up. The moon casts an ethereal glow around her silhouette. She was watching him silently, enjoying him enjoy this.

“....Thank you..” He said quietly.

She smiled, kneeling down next to him. She started picking at the grass too. “You’re welcome...” She absent-mindedly touched one of the links on his chain, “I wish there was something I could do… about this.”

“It’s my debt to pay.” She turned to face him fully, hands wringing her skirts.

“What if I could help you escape, similar to what we did tonight! There’s got to be some kind of loophole-”

“My debt follows me. If I leave, I will be dragged back.” He tore another piece of grass.

Her voice broke. “W-what kind of debt, exactly? If it’s money, I can help-”

“It’s not… the kind I can pay with coin.” Her sadness sent spears of pain into his chest. “I have already accepted my situation. Please…”

“...Don’t cry.” He finally did what he was thinking about all night. He ran a thumb over her tears and cupped her cheek. He could feel his own cheeks burning against the cool night air. She leaned into it and covered his hand with both of hers, and kissed his rough palm. “If my life did not already belong to Lucio,” He leaned over to touch his forehead to hers. “It...would be yours.”

Her tears fell freely now, small hiccups in tow. Her fingers tucked his long hair behind his ear, nose pressed next to his. He could smell the perfume in her hair. “Stay with me.” His voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t believe how he was acting. How selfish he was being. His own tears started to fall at the thought.

“Even though I don’t deserve-”

She kissed him, desperately.

A frantic move to get rid of those deteriorating thoughts and let him know how much she really cared, all in one. When she slowly pulled back to break the kiss, his own lips followed her briefly in a refusal to let go. His eyes stayed closed for a blessed few seconds before he looked at her with all the longing he kept locked away these past months. His need for human touch and intimacy flared up all at once, all his work to keep himself numb was shattered. His heartbeat hammered in his throat. Thankfully, she looked just as flustered. Her fingers gingerly ran over the stubble on his cheeks, and both of their lips met halfway this time.

Her hands pulled on his neck and he fell over her, heavily. Willingly. His large hands landed on either sides of her shoulders, his long black hair creating a curtain around them. The passing fireflies around them glowed in a pulsing light on their flushed faces. His mind went blank as she held him there, feeling the heat radiating off of her. His chest ached and his face burned to the tips of his ears from the way she tenderly kissed him. His top lip. Bottom Lip. The corner of his mouth and cheek. He felt out of breath from the embarrassment, and finally buried his face in the crook of her neck, careful not to put too much of his weight on her. She turned her head to kiss his ear.

He loved her.

His heart pounded in his throat once more at the thought. After calming his breathing, he kissed her neck where his face landed and looked in her eyes. “I won’t be able to give you the life you deserve, Myrra,” He said shakily. “You won’t have a future with me. I have nothing. I don’t even have a last name to give you.”

That implication broke her.

“I _love_ you, I don’t care, you can take mine instead-” She breathed out all at once. He kissed her again, in a surge of emotion. His adoration for her filled him completely and left room for little else. She swept his bangs away from his face when they parted.

“You’re mine, either way.” She whispered sweetly. “...Am I yours?”

“_Of course_-”

“Then that’s all I need from you…” Her thumb rubbed soft circles on his cheek, his stubble tickling her. He turned his face to kiss her palm and wrist. He moved to sit on his knees and pulled her to sit up with him, and brought her into his arms to hold her properly.


End file.
